


Call Me

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim call's home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me

**Author's Note:**

> I switched POVs with abandon in this story, but tried to separate them out so as not to confuse. Hope it worked.

## Call Me

by Roxanne

Author's webpage: <http://www.angelfire.com/ga4/garett/senslash.htm>

Author's disclaimer: Sue me.

* * *

 **CALL ME**  
by Roxanne 

The phone rang at exactly ten minutes until twelve - it's off-key bleating startling a very preoccupied Blair Sandburg. A huge dollop of hand cream squished out as his hand reflexively clenched the tube he was holding. Wiping the cream from his left hand onto his right, Blair sighed at the mess he'd just created. With a slippery hand, he fumbled for the receiver. 

"Sandburg," he growled into the phone. 

"Hey Chief. What's up?" 

"Not much," Blair mumbled as he tried to somehow get the thick cream back into the tube. It wasn't working and he was just making a bigger mess trying. Now he had the lotion all over the tube, the phone and his hands. Frustration on top of frustration was not a good combination. 

"How was your trip?" he asked, distracted immediately by a glob of hand cream that had shot onto the magazine that lay open on the bed. He wiped the lotion off with one finger, leaving a wet splotch where Miss February's face used to be. 

* * *

Jim balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder and started unpacking his clothes. He'd grabbed the phone with the longest cord, so he could move around while he talked, certain that he'd get at least one lecture while on the phone with Blair. Might as well use his time productively. Besides, he hated living out of a suitcase and while he was only going to be in Chicago for a couple of days, he'd be much happier if everything was unpacked and put away in the hotel dresser. 

"Shitty. The flight was late ... some crap about bad weather in Boston ... what the hell that has to do with flights into Chicago, I don't know. Anyhow, I finally get here and they can't find my luggage, so I have to go to United's office and they finally locate it on a carousel from a flight from Frankfort. Frankfort! Anyway, I finally get that taken care of, then I get this idiot cab driver that needs a map to find his way from O'Hare to the Airport Hyatt. Then he thinks that he should get a five dollar tip for what should have been a three dollar fare so I get major attitude from him. I finally get to the hotel and they put me in a smoking room. It reeks worse than Simon's cigars, so I go back down to the front desk and they tell me they're filled up. When I threaten to sue their asses for endangering my health they finally move me to a non-smoking suite that somehow has miraculously just become available." 

"That's nice, Jim." 

"You haven't listened to a word I said, have you?" Jim accused his partner as he refolded his underwear and placed it in the dresser drawer. 

"Uh huh." 

Jim stopped in the middle of the room and grabbed the receiver in his hand. 

"Sandburg? What are you doing?" 

* * *

Guilt immediately colored Blair's nervous response. 

"Nothing." 

God, it was worse than being caught jerking off by your mom. Blair was 30 years old and still tossed the tube of hand cream under his bed and quickly wiped both hands on the blanket before he gripped the receiver tightly and waited for Jim's response. 

"Sandburg, you're like a little kid. I can tell you're lying just by your voice. What'ya do? Make a big mess in the kitchen? I'll bet you've had some girl over for dinner and now there's spaghetti on the ceiling and sauce all over everything. Well buddy-boy, it had better be cleaned up when I get home or your ass is mine!" 

"Yes Mother," Blair sighed into the phone. Now he had this mess and the one in the kitchen to worry about too. Deciding that a change in subject would only be for the best, he brightly chirped, "So how was your trip, man?" 

* * *

Jim paused in mid-step between the suitcase and the dresser and rubbed his forehead. Some conversations with Blair Sandburg were a lot more difficult than they ought to be. Jim considered his response as he pulled his dress suit from the hanging bag. He wiped a speck of lint from the lapel and hung the suit next to his leather coat and calmly asked "Sandburg, are you on drugs?" 

* * *

Blair forced a loud laugh at Jim's joke, but thanked the gods of masturbation for the opening. He quickly launched into a lecture he'd once given to his freshman Anthro 101 class on the more esoteric uses of peyote. It was guaranteed to bore Jim into quickly ending the phone call. "... and that's why the Hopi Indians celebrate the first full moon after the solstice with ritual mud baths." 

* * *

"Riiiiight," Jim interjected at the appropriate moment. He'd finished unpacking while Blair had regaled him with stories of fertility ceremonies and drug-induced premonitions of massacres and had even managed to undress without dropping the phone. He was folding his dirty clothes with visions of being stretched out on the king-sized bed as soon as his roommate stopped to take a breath. 

"Hey, I'm going to call it a night. The first panel's at 8:30 ... that's 6:30 our time ... and if I've got any hope of staying awake through it, I'd better get some sleep." 

"Yeah, man. I'm ready to hit the sack too. Have fun and bring me back a souvenir! 'Night, Jim." 

"'Night Blair," Jim murmured into the phone. He bent to put his shirt in the drawer when he noticed the catsup stain on the cuff. Without setting the phone down, he walked two steps over to the mini-bar and poured some club soda on the blue cotton shirt. 

At first he didn't even realize that Blair hadn't hung up the phone. He was so used to listening to the soft breathing sounds of his roommate that their continued presence didn't seem unnatural. A sharp gasp brought him back into focus and Jim strained to hear what Blair was doing. He could hear Blair's heart thumping ... its pace quickening with each second that passed. There was another sound that sounded kind of like slurping, but Blair was panting now so it couldn't be him eating something. 

"Oh shit," Jim mumbled as realization dawned. Obviously Sandburg had hit the speaker button when he'd hung up the phone. Now he was beating off and Jim could hear every stroke of his hand. He thought about yelling into the phone to get Blair's attention. Or should he just hang up quickly? Announcing his presence would likely embarrass the kid to death. It would be fun, but something like that could damage Blair for life. Better he hang up himself ... let Blair think Jim didn't have a clue. That's what he'd do. 

Moving to pull the phone from his ear, Jim stopped in mid-reach as he heard Blair moan again. 

"Oh god, that's good." 

Jim gasped at the husky tone of his roommate's voice. It was a sound that Jim had never heard ... never let himself hear. Blair usually turned on the white noise generator when he was planning to ... take care of business. Now there was no white noise ... nothing but the faint hiss of the telephone line to distract him. Jim knew he should put the phone down right away before he heard more ... right now, before Blair realized he was listening ... right now ... but now he just couldn't. Every hair on his arms stood up as he strained to hear more. 

"Ooh yeah!" 

Dropping down on the edge of the bed, Jim held his breath as the rhythmic slide of skin against skin on the other end of the phone line echoed through his brain. 

"Feels so good." 

Letting his eyes drift shut, Jim fell back against the bed with the phone still held to his ear. The breathy exclamations and soft sounds of movement of flesh conjured up a series of images that flashed unbidden through his mind ... Blair, naked and writhing on his bed ... Blair with his dick in his hand, pumping the swollen organ in jerky, almost brutal movements ... Blair's mouth pursed in pleasure in a totally wanton display of sexuality ... Blair straddling him, his hair obstructing Jim's view of the devilish grin as Blair came on Jim's stomach. 

He was over 2000 miles away, but it wasn't sentinel vision that allowed him to gaze on his roommate at this moment. His mind was filling in the details that complimented the sounds he heard quite nicely. The fluttering of eyelashes, the thrusting of hips, the shiny head of Blair's dick as his hand worked the rigid flesh ... 

"Oh Jim ..." 

Ellison sat straight up and stared into the phone. Had Blair really said that? No way in hell. Jim was just imagining it. It was just his dirty little mind playing tricks. 

"God, Jim ... do it to me." 

Jim's answering groan was lost in the miles of phone lines that separated them. He dropped back down onto the bed and quickly pulled his dick free. He was hard in an instant, pumping himself in time to his guide's own rhythm. 

"Oh god, Jim ..." 

"Yes, Blair, yes," Jim answered softly, his hand now furiously working his own burning flesh. 

**"OH GOD JIM!"**

What is the sound of a man coming? Jim heard the ragged breaths, the blood flowing through the tense muscles, the splash of semen. It was enough. 

**"OH GOD BLAIR!"**

His cry probably seemed louder than it was because it was followed by absolute, hear a pin drop silence. No one made a sound ... no one even breathed on either end of the phone line. The moment of silence was then interrupted by a whispered "oh shit!" 

It was a totally irrational and incredibly juvenile thing to do and Jim regretted it as soon as he'd done it, but he'd panicked. Realizing that Blair knew that he was still on the line ... that Blair now knew that he'd apparently hit the speaker on his phone when he'd try to hang up ... that Blair knew that Jim had heard everything ... Jim ripped the phone cord from the wall. 

He sat on the bed with a lap full of come, holding the dead phone in a death-grip. No, it wasn't the smartest thing to do. Especially since this was a suite in a nice hotel and there were at least two other phones that started ringing almost immediately. He thought about just not answering ... pretending that he'd left the room, but Jim just wasn't that kind of guy. He'd always faced his problems head-on ... at least he had when he couldn't duck them entirely ... and by god, he was going to face this one. Besides, he really needed to clean up and the closest phone was in the bathroom. 

"Ellison," he barked into the receiver. Better to take the offensive with Blair. He wouldn't be disappointed by his guide's tremulous response. 

"Jim? Are you okay?" Blair asked nervously. 

"Fine ... a hundred percent," he snapped back. "Why?" 

Why? He'd actually had the nerve to ask why while standing there with his jockey shorts around his ankles, washing away the evidence of his crime. 

"Jim," Blair began a little more forcefully this time. "I think I ... I think ... Jim?" 

"Yes, Blair?" Jim replied more gently this time. 

"Did you ...? Oh god, Jim. Did you ...?" 

That was a hard one. If he said no, what was he saying no to? Jim looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. The face that stared back was that of the man he'd become because of four years of living with Blair Sandburg. He looked familiar but the man in the mirror did things now that the old Jim Ellison had never, ever even dreamed of. The man in the mirror lived with a roommate. He did almost everything anymore with his best friend. He even called said friend/roommate to let him know he'd arrived safely. Most importantly though, the man in the mirror got off on the sounds of his male best friend/roommate beating off. 

"Uh huh." 

"Jim?" 

The man in the mirror began to grin. His whole life had taken a major turn when he'd met Blair Sandburg and just did another 180 in the last 10 minutes to head him right into the Sandburg zone. And for once, instead of being scared shitless, he was suddenly really, really happy. 

"Yes, Blair?" 

"What are you thinking?" 

Ooh, now there was a question. I'm thinking about how hot you probably look, laying in your bed, stomach covered with come. I'm thinking about how your nipples are probably red and hard from you playing with them while you were jerking off. I'm thinking about how much I want to see my dick sliding in and out of that perfect mouth of yours. 

Jim wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knew enough to save those answers for later. 

Tonight he settled on, "I'm thinking that we've got some talking to do when I get home. How about you?" 

"I think you're right." There was a slight pause and then Blair spoke again. "Are you going to throw me out?" 

Jim stepped out of his shorts and away from the mirror. Leaning against the vanity now in nothing but his white socks, he thought carefully about his response. He could tell that Blair was holding his breath, but he had to get this right ... to say the right thing this time. 

"No, Blair. That's not at all what I've got planned for you." 

"Okay. Good. Cause I ... okay. Sweet dreams, Jim." 

Relief radiated through the phone lines. It was the right thing. 

"You too, Blair," Jim responded gently. "And Blair?" 

"Yeah, Jim?" 

"Call me again tomorrow night, okay?" 

"Sure thing. 'Night, Jim." 

"'Night, babe." 

**END**


End file.
